thessalian: (Default)
Oh dear gods my feeeeeeeeet. I honestly thought that Brixton was going to be the less tiring, foot-wearying option for shopping with my mother. Hoo boy was I wrong. Not that it didn't go well, but the weariness, aaaaaagh. Still, I can hardly complain. My flat is now so much more nicely stocked and so forth now.

So first it was Japanese food, as it usually is. I found us this gorgeous little fusion place called Gyoza on Coldharbour Lane that I highly recommend, by the way. Their dumplings are awesome and they have a sort of 'select your own bento box bits' deal thing. Nom. Anyway, after that was a lovely little shop where Mum kept sort of flinging stuff at me. So from there I came away with three new mugs, a "Where The Wild Things Are" T-shirt, three books (Dirty French Slang, Dirty Spanish Slang, and Dirty Jokes - I don't even know why my mother thinks I need these things, but eh), a notebook with "I Coulda Been A Novel" on the cover and a fridge magnet that reads "DRINK COFFEE - Do stupid things faster with more energy". Either my mother knows me way too well, I slipped up one day and told her about my RP character on CbN, or both.

We then moved on to clothes. My mother has this thing about me and clothes, and I'm hardly going to complain because most of mine are too big now. So I now have many new tops and amused by the fact that ... well, twenty years ago, my mother made faces at me when I wanted a Guns n' Roses T-shirt and now she's insisting I add one to the pile, nostalgia-grinning all over her face. Next time it's apparently to be new jeans 'cos my favourite blue ones keep falling down. *grumble*

Sidebar: I saw a hopeful thing on my way to the fitting rooms to try stuff on - Rolling Stones T-shirt prominently displayed in the Girls Aged 9-14 section. Though it's weird that such shares space with Hello Kitty. Yeah, I don't even.

Stuff for the flat came next - apparently all to be considered gifts from my stepdad. I did not know this until afterwards, but I will have to remember a thank-you email. Because I have pretty new bedding that is not cheap crap from Sainsburys, a really gorgeous new pillow, a lovely soft Egyptian cotton towel, a frying pan that the enamel probably won't chip off when I try to use it, two wooden spoons that don't splinter if I so much as look at them funny, a strainer, and ... *fanfare* ... a rice cooker! I have wanted a rice-cooker for over ten years now! Best part? There is little spending-guilt-by-proxy because every single item was on sale for half-price or lower.

After a quick turn-around in Body Shop (shampoo, conditioner, body wash, face scrub, scented candle), I made a horrific discovery. That pub I like - The Rest Is Noise? With the pear cider on tap and the lovely comfy seats and always looked hella busy and was open two weeks ago? Isn't open anymore. *weeps* Now I need a new pub-I-like-that's-near. Anyway, so instead of that, Mum bought a couple of bottles of wine (one for just me, one so she could have a glass at my place) and she came over to Shiny New Flat. She just wanted to see the place, and was pleased - probably a little pleasantly surprised, actually, since she knows my rep for the slovenly. Anyway, I loaned her a few DVDs (V season 1, Neverwhere, Dead Poets Society because she didn't think my stepdad had seen it and she loves it) and there was the whole hospitality thing - as well as it can be managed in a one-room flat where I hadn't brought out a second chair, anyway. I then walked her to the train station, picked up some dinner bits, and now I am home and am so knackered you have no idea.

Mum brought me back a souvenir from Thailand - she recalled my mentioning the statue of Ganesh at Sourcebook Central 2.0 and she looked all over everywhere to find me a really nice one of my own. Yes, she thinks the whole thing is crap and laments not giving me a 'good Christian upbringing' or similar bollocks, but despite all that, she remembered that I sort of missed that little statue of Ganesh and brought me one specially. There are warmer fuzzies about that than anything else about today. Not to mention that it never hurts to sacrifice a few sweets to the God of Overcoming Obstacles, life being as it is. So Ganesh is now sitting on my windowsill, symbolically nomming two after-dinner mints and a cherry Life Saver.

(Yes, I'm weird. You all knew this. Carry on.)

So ... yeah. Tired but triumphand and full of glee and generally feeling even more like my flat is made of win. And there will be RP of awesome tonight, woo! So before any of that happens, I need to put away the clothes, put the new bedding on my bed and grab a shower, I think. Also dinner, but that can wait a little longer. Right now I just want my feet to stop hurting, kthnx.
thessalian: (Default)
I love my mother, really. But sometimes she really is a bit of a ditz.

Mum: Let's meet up this weekend! I want to see your new flat! So should we meet up in the centre, or closer to here.
Me: Hrm. My area's kind of sparse, but Brixton's close-ish. Let me think on it and email you back?
Mum: Okey-doke. I'll expect your email.

Next Day:
Me: *emails with date and time*

Today:
Mum: Don't forget to tell me date and time!
Me: I emailed yesterday; guess it never went through. *gives date and time again*
Mum: Oh, I wasn't checking my email. Brixton - is there a station? Where is this?
Me: ...... *facepalms and resists urge to say 'read my email or JFGI'* Yes; southernmost stop on the Victoria Line.
Mum: Okey-doke. See you soon.

She's lived in London at least as long as I have. "Is there a station?" - yeesh. Mum, love ya, but this it what becomes of people who think that a ten-year-old encyclopaedia trumps the mighty Google when it comes to info-gathering.

Well, at least I get to take her to The Rest Is Noise now...

Baby Face

May. 21st, 2010 05:44 pm
thessalian: (Default)
I am in hiding from the rush hour.

See, I had to meet up with my mother. This had something to do with my beloved shoes (Doc Marten flats - no laces, just your typical pair of office-flats) having been so much loved that I'd worn holes through the soles. Which I discovered earlier in the week when I stepped on someone's still-smouldering cigarette butt. Owowow. Anyway, I now have a pair of clogs, a pair of kind of funky black suede things with wooden platform and heel, a bag full of Lush bath and beauty products and a selection of DVDs (Being Human S1&2 box set, Good Will Hunting, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas because Mum insisted I had to see this film and my own copies of Dead Poets Society and Blood Diamond, the latter four courtesy of HMV's 2-for-£10 sale). I am apparently to consider this a finder's fee for the various DVDs, the pair of Birkenstocks, the Lush products and the new cocktail bar I helped Mum find, as well as for being the primary plotter of our early summer weekend in Brighton. (Mum likes it when I take her places because I apparently know all the awesome bars/restaurants/shops/hotels/etc, though gods know I have no idea how I know. I tell you, it's radar!) Not complaining.

Certainly not complaining (but laughing a lot) at the fact that I got carded today. They weren't operating Challenge 25 either; they honestly thought I looked under 21. This is really only vaguely annoying because I don't have a lot of ID that proves my age. Thankfully, I carry my expired passport with me everywhere and that at least states my date of birth. The bartender looked surprised as hell when he saw 1977 as my year of birth, and even more so when my mother returned to the table from her trip to the loo while I was being carded. Mostly because she giggled and told him, "She's my daughter, for Christ's sake".

My mother looks maybe 40. This does not really help my case for getting a drink.

In any case, we did get served (Bellinis are awesome) and now I'm sitting in a cybercaff, hiding from the rush hour. It says a lot about me that I'm here and not holed up in a pub someplace. But this is cheaper entertainment, really. I might go dump £1 into the DDR machine in the nearby arcade if I get really bored, and I probably ought to grab dinner at some point.

At least I finished the stupid Dragon Age parody fic last night. (Yes, I set Dragon Age: Origins - or at least the mage origin of same - to the songs of The Wizard of Oz. I blame [personal profile] mitchy for her obsession with that "Over the Rainbow" talent search competition programme on the BBC. Dear gods - first real introduction to the fandom is a Wizard of Oz parody fic. If I ever write romance/angst/adventure, the fandom might have a collective aneurysm.) Now I can focus on the last couple of chapters of Birth Rites. I've made a good start on Chapter 22, so there's that at least, and I know how it's going to end. Bonus. Then I can stick it in a drawer and forget about it for a couple of weeks.
thessalian: (Default)
To start, FFXI ranting/squee. I promise it won't take long.

Of suck jobs and dragons. )

So that was my Boxing Day - watching Hamlet (David Tennant! Patrick Stewart! Awesome all around!) while pounding macro buttons and scoffing [personal profile] mitchy's lovely Boxing Day feast - cold cuts and chutneys and gorgeous roast parsnips and roast potatoes and some of the mash leftover from my Christmas dinner. Omnom. It was nice, and there was relaxing and all was well.

Today was dinner with Mum and Stepdad, for more gift exchange and general nommage. Mum made my favourite pasta dish (prawns, sun-dried tomato and peas) and we unwrapped the presents. David liked his new mouse mat and it immediately got pride of place in their study. Mum was very pleased with the DVDs I got her (The Great Escape and The Handmaid's Tale), so I did well and am happy. For myself, I got books (Stephen King's most recent collection of short stories and an Ursula K LeGuin book Mum thought I'd like), CDs (Metric, Shinedown and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs), new clothes (the tops work, but I'm not really sure about the dress and as to the bright purple jeans? Um...) and a new coat. They're trying to pry me out of my old, battered black leather jacket but while the suede-effect tan trenchcoat is nice and all, and very John Constantine? I like my leather jacket and I'm not binning it.

Last but certainly not least, there was the cute Christmas card with the Amazon 'gift tokens' stuck inside, one each from Mum and Stepdad. See, apparently my Amazon wish list was too extensive for them to decide what to get, even with the abbreviated 'All I Want for Christmas' default list. So instead, we went online after dinner and I picked out a couple of things from the list. Those 'couple of things' turned out to be Sims 3 and the World Adventures expansion pack, of course. Though I admit to being a little peeved at EA for not only charging for the only custom content we can really get at the moment, but for also putting out Stuff Packs on top of that. Yay for being the ever-milked cash cow? Still, I have uses for the game regardless (character and set design works even if I'm a little crippled without custom content) and I do think it's fun.

Of course, there were a couple of things that made me want to punt my mother through a waaaaall... But I'm not going to go into that overmuch. Just ... y'know, I'm 32, not 12.

Treats!

Sep. 12th, 2009 08:19 pm
thessalian: (coffee)
I'm pleased to note that once again, however many treats and things I received during my lunch outing with my mother, I did actually give as good as I got ... in a sense, anyway. For someone who has technically lived and worked in London a bit longer than I have, I seem to know London a lot better than she does, and whenever we go out, it's like she finds a bit of London she didn't even know existed. This usually works out very well for us both.

I bought lunch, though Mum paid for the wine - it was a standard trip to Ikkyusan for sushi and gyoza, but it wasn't even crowded, which was a nice surprise. I picked up my birth certificate (next step: apply for passport) and we had a good long chat. In the course of that, we discussed the computer thing, and Mum's going to get onto my stepdad about how, while she knows he wants to be thorough, I need a new computer and I need it now because my current one is dead and I can't manage without a computer. So hopefully things will be sorted so that the PC will either be delivered ASAP or be available for collection at the nearest shop. Please please please SOON I miss my music collection and my vids and my games... I paid for my FFXI time and can't use it agh!

*ahem* Sorry.

Afterwards, we were going to get me some shoes, as my Doc Marten flats are really wearing out, but they only had them in two or three sizes too small for me, so we more or less gave up on the shoes and, after stopping for a drink at the Montagu Pyke, I showed Mum Forbidden Planet, which she hadn't even heard of. A sci-fi/fantasy fan who doesn't know where Forbidden Planet is ... can't be allowed. Mum happily gravitated to the anthologies and picked out a couple (though she now suspects that she already owns one of the ones she got, which she apparently does a lot), and then allowed me convince her that yes, she really wanted to buy Joe Hill's Heart-Shaped Box because no, even though he's Stephen King's son, he is not a Stephen King copycat. Then she did the usual thing of getting me to pick out a book. One book. Does anyone know how hard it is for me to pick one book out of the however many I wish to own? Show of hands? Exquisite torture. Anyway, in the end I decided on A Fistful of Charms, as I'm working on getting the whole set of Kim Harrison novels. Not doing too badly, either - only missing Where Demons Dare and White Witch, Black Curse, which I haven't even read yet and refuse to until I own the others. Yes, even though I've read library copies of everything up to Where Demons Dare.

There were other bits and pieces too. We happened to breeze by a Sanrio equivalent and I came away with a dice bag shaped like a panda bear face, a 1-Up mushroom cushion, a new notebook and a paper fan with cats printed on it. (I bought my mother a box of unicorn-print plasters. It's an in-joke.) And apparently I could not leave Forbidden Planet without the pin badge reading "My imaginary friend doesn't like you". Afterwards, we decided to stop for one last drink before heading for King's Cross to renew my monthly travelcard (I hadn't expected her to, but am glad she did) and then heading our separate ways. Since we were in the area, I suggested the little bar where we had the NaNoWriMo launch party a few years ago - the one [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo went to and gave me the idea for Voudon Udon.

Mum was going to stick with wine, but changed her mind when she saw what I'd found on the cocktail menu. It was called an espresso martini, and consisted of espresso, sugar, kahlua and vanilla vodka. There are no words to describe the awesome of that cocktail. Gorgeous. Gorgeous. Mum has now decided that we have to end every London meet-up we have there for one of these. I'm not arguing because I can't justify the prices at that place very often. But surely I will be able to make it myself at some point.

So ... it's been a pretty good day, and with luck I'll have a working PC by the end of the week. *crosses fingers*
thessalian: (Default)
I swear, for everything that works out, there's always something else.

I start work on Monday, that's the good news. I got all the documentation in, for the most part, at least. The rest I have to fill out over the weekend and hand in to HR on Monday. I hate these things, mostly because all that info is on my CV and why the hell I have to keep rewriting this shit every time I turn around is beyond me, but whatever. There's also the matter of my references; the problem with having temped for as long as I have is that there's always so few people that you've worked for more than a few months. They're asking for my agency as a reference, so I guess at least there's that; they can confirm where I've worked and when. Still, it's frustrating. Still, at least the hard part's over and I can more or less relax about the job thing ... well, to the point where I can settle in and do the damn job, anyway.

Now it's the computer issue that's really pissing me off. Every day, something else goes wrong with my poor Eshu. Today, it seems to be that iTunes won't work. I tried to get it started but not only would it not load, I can't use the task manager to shut it down so I can properly reload it, either. It's just sitting there frozen and it's a royal pain in the arse. So my computer is probably steps away from a total meltdown and the promise that I'll get a new one as an early Christmas present has conditions that I hadn't even considered. Mostly is the issue that my Mum and stepdad want to wait until I've moved into a new place of my own before they actually get me the computer so there won't be extra to lug around. What they don't seem to realise is that the computer I'm looking at is actually smaller than Eshu, so it'll be easier to transport. That and the fact that my stepdad, who used to work as an Information Services person before he got made redundant maybe ten years ago or something, is turning around and saying, "The one you picked looks okay but tell me what you want in a computer so I can see if I can find something better". Read: "Let me second-guess your choices, okay?" Look, it's supposed to be an early Chistmas present; what on earth is the point of having a Christmas present if it's not the thing you want? Honestly, I'm trying to find a polite way to reply to his email that involves the sentiment, "I want that one, okay? It has everything I need and frankly, what I really want is a computer that works as soon as possible!"

Then there's the preachifying that followed the second-guessing in the email I got last night. My stepdad launched into this thing about how I needed to hold onto this opportunity (I KNOW, okay? I know the unemployment figures, I know how much I need this job; please stop rubbing it in) and how I need to remember my place and moderate my behaviour in the workplace to suit said place. This really galls me; he has absolutely no idea how I behave in a work environment. He's never seen me in a professional capacity, and he's just assumed that I behave the same way in my family, social and professional lives. He might do so, but most people, as far as I've been able to see, don't. I know how to behave at work, thank you, and for him to suggest otherwise is truly insulting. Particularly when he assumes that it's my behaviour, and not lack of opportunity and years of temping NHS hospitals that won't hold onto staff because of staffing regulations, that's led to my lack of permanent jobs. I want to be able to tell him all of this but I don't really want to get into it with him. I don't even think I can tell him that I know how to behave in a workplace without him using that statement as a comment on how I would behave in a workplace.

There's a lot of history here, I suppose. Since I was 15 years old or so (long before he was my stepdad, when he was just my mother's lover), my stepdad has told me that he was not going to treat me like I was his daughter. He has two children of his own and I have a father, however much I refuse to talk to him. Except the problem is that he has, in a way. I have received from my stepfather all the discipline that a child can expect from her father but none of the affection, at least not openly. I know he cares and all, but the discipline far outweighs the caring. Bit of a story: when I was a teenager, Mum attempted to force me to keep my weight under control by enforcing a half-hour on a stationary bike every day. I resented the hell out of this and lied about doing it when the parental units were out. My stepdad decided to catch me out in this lie by putting a sprinkling of talcum powder on the bike seat. I got really offended, as teenagers do, at this entire mess, took a bit of a tone when I apologised for the lying, and he slapped me. Mum didn't do or say anything about it and the fact that he had no right to do that was obviously going to get no sympathy. Mum then left on a business trip and my stepdad ordered me to write an essay on why lying was wrong. I protested this and he slapped me again. I don't think he's raised a hand to me since (I don't remember it, anyway, and I probably would if he had) but that's the sort of thing I only barely condone in a blood parent. In a step-parent who insisted that he wasn't going to be a parent? Noooooooononono. I never really liked my stepdad; I think he's an uptight, controlling prick at times. Mum loves him and they get on well and that earns him kudos, but he's not my father and he needs to stop trying to control me.

I seem to have the worst luck in the world with father figures.
thessalian: (sick)
From my mother, I mainly got clothes this year. Two pretty skirts, three nice tops, underwear and two pairs of boots that are too small for me. I have to go and take both pairs back - I could exchange them for a larger size, but I don't really like either pair. [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo thinks they would suit me, but I'm not much for zip-up calf-length boots because they're never all that comfortable - not unless there are also laces and buckles that you can adjust. I don't know where designers got the idea that you could judge someone's calf size by their shoe size but it's erroneous and stupid. We'll have to see, though - I do need at least one decent pair of shoes that are also comfortable ... if I can find a pair that meet that criteria.

Anyway, I also came home with Terry Pratchett's Discworld (animated versions of Soul Music and Wyrd Sisters, plus a copy of Going Postal in paperback), a pretty pair of earrings and 1001 Nights of Snowfall, which is moderately fantastic. [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo liked his gifts too (he can tell you about them himself if he likes) and found out over the course of the evening just where some of my quirks come from.

Okay, so the entire 'Christmas at Mum's' thing was embarrassing and a little bit weird, partially because I haven't been 'round hers for Christmas in ... what, four years? But I survived, pretty much. Now I just feel ill and tired for no damn reason. And the RP party's tomorrow so I just hope I feel better by then...
thessalian: (faith)
Kitty's on crack. Kitty's currently having a 'time out' in the box the food processor came in.

We're off to dinner at Mum and Stepdad's place in a couple of hours. Oh, yay. I mean, it shouldn't be so bad really, but I didn't sleep all that well and don't feel particularly fantastic. Still, I suppose it won't be a whole lot of effort on my part, except for the travelling and such - we're going to sit and have a drink or two and open presents, and then there will be dinner and coffee, and then we go home. Somewhere in there will be Mum showing off her new kitchen and us sitting down and getting me registered for Phoenix Rising. 'Cos, of course, I'm not missing this one.

Speaking of getting things organised, I also made some agency calls to remind them that I exist and would like work. Why is it that they only call when I'm either working or swamped with hospital appointments? Anyway, they said I'd hear from them, so here's hoping that I hear a) soon and b) about a really good long-term temp job, or a good series of short-term temp jobs.

It occurs to me that it would be nice if life were more like FFXI. Stuck for money? Go out and kill monsters! Or go fishing or grow things in your garden or something. Cut for FFXI news. )

And now I need to consider what I'm going to wear and then go get some cash so I can top up my Oyster card and get smokes. Really all I want to do is crawl back into bed, though...
thessalian: (wtf)
So apparently, all those months ago when I met [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo's mother, we discussed Christmas plans - the possibility of being driven up to and back from his mother's place by his sister on either Christmas or Boxing Days. No solid plans were actually made, or else I'd have come home panicked and been stressing over it for the past several months, because I'm like that. And it never got mentioned again, so nothing ever got confirmed so far as we know. So we made our Christmas plans for Sourcebook Central pretty much as we did last year, except for a minor abberation wherein we're going to Mum's on the 27th. Because, y'know, she asked when was best and we discussed it and came to an agreement and confirmed everything except exact time, which is allowed to be vague anyway. So that's Christmas locked up - the plan was that I would roast another duck, partially to tinker with the glaze recipe I came up with last year, and all that good stuff.

Except now I get a text message from [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo in which I discover that plans have been confirmed without us and we're apparently supposed to be spending Christmas Day at his mother's place.

Um. Not to be rude to the soon-to-be-in-laws, but WHAT THE FUCK?

Okay. I got that out of my system. But honestly, what the hell is going on? I know I vague out about plans sometimes but not even [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo is aware that this ever got confirmed our end. And it wouldn't make sense for it to have been, at least not in recent months - hello, the long-term illness? Going to Mum's is going to be bad enough - public transport and all, y'know - but at least in that case, I have the option of saying, "Sorry, I'm not feeling well and really need to go home". I can't do that when I'm reliant on someone else for a ride, or indeed at all since it'd be fucking rude. And even if I could, it still means however long in a car back, and I know from experience that cars are even less comfortable than public transport for me right now.

I can't go. Not feeling like this. I mean, yes, it's been a bit worse recently what with the antibiotics and all, and I can expect at least some improvement after that wears off, but not by that much. At least it's a better excuse for spending a quiet Christmas at home than "Well, you never brought it up again after the summer, so we kind of made our own plans that we were quite looking forward to, actually".

Thinking about this, though, I suppose part of the problem is my not being used to juggling various family branches over the holiday season. I mean, my Christmases have tended to look like this:

A Holiday History )

Note the total lack of multiple arrangements there. I either had to make sure I was in a certain place at a certain time, but I was always the one being juggled, and there was really only one set of family to see. Every time there was a SO's family issue, I wasn't talking to my own family so it wasn't an issue where I spent the holidays. And, of course, I wasn't long-term sick for any of those. I would much prefer if this whole thing were ... y'know, easier.

I still can't make my damn forum work, and my support ticket to my host says something about how it doesn't offer help with scripts. So I've deleted the lot and plan to upload it all again later on this afternoon, in the hopes that when it gets loaded on a server with MySQL already in place, it'll actually work. If not ... I dunno what I'm going to do if not. Find another way to set up a forum that isn't going to get spammed into oblivion like our Affils phpBB did. But right now, I'm having the whole "antibiotics are making me sick" issue and the horrible stormy weather we've been having today is wreaking havoc with my knees and my sinuses in equal measure, so I'm not going to do that right now. Don't know what I am going to do, but ... well, I'll think of something. What I need to do at some point is get some pictures of the Square Mile and Covent Garden for the Settings page on CoC (now up in incomplete but not too bad form). Still, doesn't need to happen this instant - nothing's going to happen with this game anyway if I can't even get a forum set up...
thessalian: (shy)
Hooray for me - I just spent pretty much the entire day in bed. And I'm still feeling terribly dragged out, which is the most annoying part. Okay, I'm sure it didn't help that my sleep has been a series of naps rather than an actual proper good night's sleep, but seriously...

I emailed Michael on Monday morning asking what the hell was going on with my pay from the old job - basically, I would kind of like to know if I'm getting paid on Thursday, seeing as it's going to be very hard to manage things like contribution to the household finances and Christmas shopping and everything else if I'm not. Has he responded yet? Has he bollocks. Even an email saying "I don't know yet but we're working on it" would make me feel better. I know he's probably busy and everything and that the charity that actually pays the bills is probably being a pain about it or something, but it's still frustrating and stress I don't need. Me being me, I'm considering all possible horror stories on this vein, mostly involving having to take a charity to court for the pay they promised. At least my mother knows lawyers.

Speaking of that, I haven't exactly let her know what's going on yet. I know she's just going to ask me why the hell I didn't tell her sooner, but I'm still waiting on it for at least a little while longer for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, I'm really not in the mental place where I want to have to explain the situation to my mother - it may not be my fault, but this kind of thing is still not easy. Secondly, I know she's going to offer to help. This is a good thing, but it also means that I need to know more about the situation before I know whether I need her help at all and if so, what that would entail. Which I'm sure I'll find out on Thursday, when I find out whether the old job has decided to just stick with paying me monthly until my redundancy officially kicks in. That would be the sensible option, you know...

Anyway. Bridges to burn when I come to them. All today's reminder of how sick I actually am has meant is that I had to reschedule today's agency interview - the lady at the agency was very nice and arranged it for the same time tomorrow. At least something's going right.
thessalian: (cheeky)
Huzzah! Work is not insane! There are no items that haven't been dealt with in ages because I didn't have the appropriate information! No one is mad at me! This shows marked improvement! I may actually be made permanent in May, instead of getting the sack! Yay! *happydance* Okay, you wouldn't think I'd be so happy about keeping this particular job, given how I bitch, but frankly, Sourcebook Central 2.0 can ill afford to have me unemployed.

Incidentally, I never mentioned how Meet the Parents Week went. I mean, actually, it was Meet the Mothers week, but, you know, close enough. Mum positively adores [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo, which is nice. We basically sat, had drinks ("Smoking Parrot" chardonnay for them, lots and lots of black coffee for me) and did the "mad funny story marathon" that the Neilson women do so well. Mum even said that I could smoke in front of her if I wanted to, which made it easier to ... well, not. I know she hates it, and the least I can do is be respectful of her virulent anti-smoking deal. After all, she was at least tolerant of mine when I was chibi, and I was a lot more vituperative about it (well, I was seven, and seven-year-olds tend to be ... vocal). So all in all, it went well. The next "eek" is when my stepfather finishes the Neilson-Moore kitchen and we the denizens of Sourcebook Central 2.0 are invited to dinner.

Lunch with Mrs Hoodoo (or, as [livejournal.com profile] leopard_lady puts it, Ma Hoodoo) was a little more enigmatic, but also seemed to go well. She liked the restaurant, produced a box of chocolates as a belated birthday present for me (berating [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo slightly for not having told her when my birthday was until he announced that he'd given me a diamond for my birthday but you all know that story already...) and asked if it would be okay for her to accompany us to Covent Garden when we went on the hunt for bath and shower base gel. Which they had, incidentally, which proves that they only have it in stock when I come in. But before we got there, we had a look in Baldwin's (I prefer Neal's Yard; it's tidier, if more crowded) and, once we hit Covent Garden, had a look in the Teddy Bear Factory, where Mrs Hoodoo was just as amused and charmed as I was about the multitudinous outfits with matching shoes and things that you could get for your stuffed toys (they had roller skates. They had ice skates. Too cute to be allowed). We stopped at the Maple Leaf after that (not so crowded as I usually see it, but it was 4 pm on a weekday) and chatted and generally had a good time before we met up with Kate (Sister Hoodoo), who was taking Mrs Hoodoo out to dinner. The amusing aside was that, when we stopped to chat, Kate peered at me for a good two minutes with a very confused look on her face and then said, "Were you blonde the last time I saw you?" She was rather relieved when I said no.

I got an email from the prima mod of Hollow City today, asking for my 'revised' character sheet (though it really is just the original because I'm not allowed to spend any XP for two in-game days). And yet Grace is still stuck in Kaldi's Coffee Shop, asking Kid Mage about nuns. I'm starting to feel like Hamlet. ("Stepdad's a freak, Mum's a whore, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are probably buggering each other, still not king.") Still, I sent my current character sheet, asked if she needed the background as well, and generally played nice. I think the mun who plays Windy is back this week so when the US wakes the fuck up, maybe I will actually be able to roleplay. Argh, I like these people (particularly [livejournal.com profile] shadow_lynne, who loves to discuss her characters and how she's screwed them over about as much as I do) but I really did come here for the roleplay. Oh well, I will have patience.

*phew*

Dec. 17th, 2005 04:58 pm
thessalian: (Default)
I survived drinks with my mother predominantly unscathed. We talked, she showed me the wedding photos, I told her all the major stuff she's missed since I broke off contact a year and a half ago, that kind of thing. We also exchanged Christmas presents. Do not open 'til Christmas, obviously.

The fact that one is now unwrapped is entirely my mother's fault.

I come to this conclusion for two reasons: a) she was the one who suggested putting it in my rucksack so I'd have fewer bags to carry, and b) she cannot giftwrap to save her life. Therefore, the fact that the wrapping paper caught on my rucksack zipper, tore and revealed the present within is entirely her fault. Once it was open, there didn't seem much point in just letting it sit there in the plastic. Besides, I already knew what it was by size, shape and weight, so it's not exactly spoiling the surprise.

Complete Buffy DVD box set! *squee*

Anyway, I'm supposed to ring on Christmas day, which I suppose I can do, and we'll probably meet up again, which I think I can handle, particularly if it went as well as it did today. I wore the DoomBoots, and all she said was, "They look ... very ... sturdy" -- a positive sign if you know that she generally makes it well known how much she hates it that I wear big clompy shoes and boots. Only other comment she made on my appearance was the burn-hole in the arm of my blue cricket jumper. Either she's learning or this is only a temporary reprieve, and I won't know which unless I take the risk of renewing contact. I think I can handle that, though I'm just grateful that they can't do the "Come to dinner and bring [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo" thing for awhile because my stepdad's redoing the kitchen so they won't have one for months. That also frees me of the worry about being invited over for Christmas dinner this year. Yay!

So it was all right, all things considered. Now I consider dinner and decide which season of Buffy I want to start on while waiting for [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo to come home.
thessalian: (blue)
After yesterday's interesting and generally ranty theological debate, on to my personal life.

I want to throttle the Chief Editor here. I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but his organisational skills would shame a stoned budgerigar. He's only in once a week (and has been in India for three weeks, having only just returned in time for the Christmas lunch before swanning off for the holiday break) and so he passes along the decisions he wants me to dole out to hopeful authors by copy/pasting all my e-mails outlining the decisions he needs to make into a Word document, making a lot of notes and then typing out the e-mails he wants me to send in the same document. Generally without deleting my old e-mail text and the notes, and not really making it easy to differentiate between the two. He left for the holiday break and left me a document to look at, and the decisions under "Decisions" for all the papers I've labouriously collected referees' comments for? NOT DONE. There are notes, comments between him and the Associate Editor, but no e-mails outlining decisions. I've had to e-mail him saying, "Sorry, but after page 4 of your document, there's noplace where you've actually told me to do anything, so could you kindly clarify this?" Not to mention the fact that he's spending most of his time and energy getting me to chase up something he could have had settled weeks ago if he'd only paid enough attention to actually attach the document he wanted to send out to the e-mail he sent me before buggering off to India. *sigh*

I like the Associate Editor. She's so organised and polite and appreciative of my efforts. She dictates the longer decision letters and faxes me with the name of the draft e-mail she wants sent along with any text she wants me to add to it for shorter ones. Her handwriting is legible and her punctuation doesn't make me want to cry. (No, our Chief Editor cannot punctuate. He ends statements with question marks, questions with full stops and puts commas in the text pretty much randomly. It makes me want to throttle him even more than I already do.) I would gladly be her personal secretary. But no, I have Mr Disorganised, who seems to expect me to get things done when he can't even get himself together enough to tell me what needs doing on even an approximate level.

[livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo is off visiting his mother this weekend; he'll be back Saturday night so he can have some relaxy time before Mage. It's going to be lonely, even with the cat, but it's only overnight so I think I'll survive. I'm only less than sure because looming over me like a cloud of infinite dread is the date I've made for a quick drink with Mum tomorrow afternoon. It's the first time I've seen her in about a year and a half and already I feel horrible about myself. She's promised to stay away from topics that will cause arguments, and that's well enough as far as it goes, but it doesn't really address the main problem. It certainly doesn't touch on the fact that my stepfather told me quite candidly that Mum pinned all her expectations on me and was horribly disappointed ... and probably still is. It doesn't help the fact that I know she thinks I'm too fat and badly-dressed to be accepted by society at large (I'm not even really paraphrasing, by the way -- I've been told that if I don't lose weight and dress better, I won't be accepted by anyone). And it doesn't change the fact that knowing that she thinks I'm this fat, ugly, disappointment makes me feel like a fat, ugly disappointment who's of no use to anyone. I don't even know why the hell she wants to see me at all at this point, but I assume it's some unholy cross between irresistable maternal instinct and not wanting to admit that she's been a completely sucky mother and lost her daughter through completely shrivelling said daughter's self-esteem.

Sorry about the whinge. I'm not really allowed to bring any of this up tomorrow by the terms under which Mum and I agreed to meet, and I'll probably never mention it to her again because honestly, I don't think she cares what she did to my self-perception and she thinks I should be completely over it by now. I just need to get it off my chest. I'm not going to be able to take tomorrow otherwise.
thessalian: (inspired)
Back at work and once again, James did next to nothing that could be called "cover". He actually seems rather proud of this, because now at least I know what needs to be done ... namely everything. I'm still not 100%, I'm still kind of draggy and run-down, and yet I wind up having to play catch-up on three days' worth of work because bloody James didn't think to at least take note of any referees' comments received unless they were absolutely urgent and requested by our associate editor. I don't have the energy for this, but am going to wind up doing it anyway. Then I go home and cook dinner, because I know that [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo a) was on earlies today and b) has a meeting at the end of the day that he's not allowed to skip out on despite being on earlies. We really can't justify the cost of eating out, what with the holidays and the Affils launch expenses, given that it's over a week until payday for both of us. And frankly, given the day we'll both have had by the time this day is over, we'll both need something more substantial than just a bowl of soup, which is our current non-cook, non-eating-out option. So I go home and cook dinner, and then I collapse in a little heap somewhere. Bleh.

It's not so bad. Two weeks until the holidays, after all. The office essentially shuts down for that week between Christmas and New Year, which is a novelty for me. After all, I've spent the past few years working in hospitals in offices that insisted on at least minimal cover over the holiday period, only drawing the line at bank holidays. Of course, you could book annual leave at that time, but only if you acted really fast (last year I only heard that there was a minimum number of people who could book time off over that week when everyone else had been given a shot at booking those days, so it was "People can book time off over the holidays but not you, because it's already been booked", which kind of defeated the purpose -- I hated St Barts sometimes). This year, it's not expected and the whole office shuts. Huzzah.

Counting my blessings over the holiday period: I get that week off, no questions asked. I'm spending it with a loved one without having to worry about not being able to travel because of shut-down public transport (a novelty this year). I get to cook in my own kitchen and not carry the fruits of my labours around with the possibility of dropping the whole mess all over a rental car or flight of stairs ... and, given that I won't be doing the pudding this year, I also won't have to worry about destroying surfaces, floor and oven interior with flour, icing sugar, cake batter or whatever. And at some point I'll get to watch White Christmas, my favourite piece of Christmas shmaltz ever ... that's if I can take the half-amused, half-pained "I don't believe you want to watch that but okay" look on [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo's face every time the subject comes up. (It's not so bad, really; it's almost funny, and I'm not as defensive about it as I seem.)

And I will not have to deal with the family for another year. Mum ... well, it might be all right, but I won't know about that until I see her on Saturday afternoon. David ... I still haven't forgotten him basically asking me to be understanding of the fact that Mum pinned all her expectations on me and I let her down; who says that to their stepkid? And then there's David's relatives, who are nice enough but I've never really got used to them -- David's dad and Auntie Vi are both sweet people and I like them but I've never dealt with people who are quite that old (both in their 90s) before and it's difficult. It's drawing the line between talking loud enough to be heard by the hard of hearing and yelling, and having to repeat myself, and reminding myself over and over and over that they have very different social context than I do so some of the things I might talk about or be interested in or whatever might be incomprehensible and / or downright offensive to them. Having to put the checkreins on my personality to prevent family arguments is hard enough without having to redouble my efforts in the face of a huge generation gap. I don't consider myself ageist or anything (at least I hope I don't come across that way), but it's a consideration. I don't think devout Christian Auntie Vi would be particularly impressed to hear me talking about Mithras rituals or what have you. I can't even talk about what I write half the time, just in case. It's a pain, but there you go.
thessalian: (inspired)
Bleh. Hate mornings. Hate Mondays. Don't wanna go into work today. I didn't sleep very well last night for a variety of reasons, one of which involves the fact that, with everything else I have to worry about at the minute, my mother ended her last e-mail to me with a request that we meet up at some stage. She says we should be fine if we avoid the topics that get us fighting, but that is not easy, as they cover a vast amount of ground and frankly it's all just going to be tense and stupid. I don't even want to think about that until such time as I get this whole Dragonmeet thing sorted but now the question's out there and what the hell am I supposed to say?

Fuck.

Still, there's amusement. I spent yesterday making a Silent Hill 4 Forest World lot for my Silent Hill Sims 2 neighbourhood. It turned out quite well, all things considered, with the graveyard and everything, so I guess now all I have to do is think up a few more lots of that type. So far I have Alchemilla Hospital (shopping mall, restaurant and nightclub) and the Wish House park setting. I've been thinking about doing Midwich Elementary School and I'm going to have to completely redo Room 302 because I lost it in a recent re-upload. If I want to do anything that's not in SH1 or 4, I'm going to have to go look at other people's walk-through maps, but I could probably do the amusement park and shopping mall from SH 3. Probably even the church, given some of my wedding arch recolours.

And I leave you with a certain amount of amusement: when I did the Forest World setting, I also created my NaNo main characters and their house. It's under the cut because I know what pictures do to friends lists most of the time. )
*sigh* Don't wanna go to work, but I guess I gotta, so I'd better get ready.
thessalian: (Default)
*sigh* You gotta love my Mum.

Not being all that sarcastic, really. For one thing, she (unlike David) didn't press me for my land-line number after yesterday's fiasco. Just said, "Glad you're okay and that you got in contact, I let your father and great-uncles etc know we were all okay, talk to you soon". Hooray for the new perspective thing from Mum.

However, e-mail from her this morning was amusing, once you got past the whole "stepmother in palliative care, Dad really low" part. Frankly, I'm not in the best of moods either, between being in pain from the inflammation (although that does seem a bit better), ill from the anti-inflammatories (bleeeeeeegh) and people blowing up London yesterday, so I'm not sure I'm keen to get in contact with a man who ignores me until he needs me, dismisses my dreams and ambitions utterly and has the socio-political acumen of a Backstreet Boys CD, just because he's blood-related to me and it's the 'nice thing to do'. Though, gods help me, I'm probably going to do it anyway. Just not right now. Random people tried to kill my city for no good reason, and there are people who actually give a shit about me even when it's inconvenient who need my support right here, right now. And there's only so much me, y'know?

In any case, she signed off with "Off to do the marriage thing. I'll be in touch when we get back."

My response was: "Blessings to you and David on your wedding day. 'The marriage thing'; heh. Way to be blasé about it, Mum. :)" Seriously; they've only been working towards getting married for, what, twelve years? Sheesh.
thessalian: (Default)
Phone rings. I pick up, thinking it could be one of the very, very few people with my landline number, calling with news and information.

I get a recording trying to sell me double-glazing or insurance or some such shit. As if I want to hear that now. I hang up with a hearty "fuck off".

Comment from [livejournal.com profile] nightskywarlock when I told him this?

"...the fuckers have no souls. exhibit a"

Meanwhile, I e-mailed my mother to a) tell her I'm okay and b) make sure she's okay. David e-mails me back, tells me Mum's fine and didn't mail me because her e-mail system is backed up ... then demands my land line. Because, of course, he can't get through on my mobile.

It's. Called. E-Mail. How the fuck do you think I got a hold of Mum in the first place? I've explained why no land line -- our line is shit and full of recorded telesales arseholes! Why does he have to go into this now when I have already voiced my objections?

I'll be better when my people are home safe. I know I will.
thessalian: (cool)
And another must-read [livejournal.com profile] metaquotes moment for [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo and any of my other friends who sensibly avoid communities because of the sheer weight they add to friends lists.

I am home with boxen. I have decided to do nothing with the boxen tonight. This is at least partly to do with the fact that [livejournal.com profile] cholten99 is in and I don't really want to do the packing thing when he's in and trying to sleep, since I kept him up on Sunday with Buffy S7, apparently. I would require entertainment of a more noisy nature to keep me interested in shoving my personal possessions in various-sized boxes, and I want to be nice to him anyway because he's going to be helping both [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo and I move in a few days.

Speaking of people being nice and hauling my shit to Finchley, communication has begun anew with my mother. Partly this was her informing me that she and her SO are finally getting married in July. In New York. No, I'm still not going. At that point, though, I figured it'd be best to let her know what-all's going on with where I'm going to be living at the very least -- in case of emergency, you understand. From there, she told me that she'd send my soon-to-be-stepfather over to the flat with the stuff I left in Tooting lo these many moons ago, which is nice. She's also telling me she's fine with communication going at my own pace, including e-mail for the duration. The reasonable nature of her last mail makes me want to mount a scouting expedition to her end of London to hunt for the pod, but never mind.

Right. I probably should go to bed either now or soon, but I'm not really sleepy so I will turn off the sound on my computer and play Sims 2 or something.
thessalian: (cool)
I cleaned the kitchen. I am the first person to actually clean the kitchen in about two weeks. I think I may have destroyed at least two colonies of newly-created life forms in the process, but at least the kitchen is now clean. It is now also full of [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo ... on a number of levels.

Still on the hunt for Sims 2 downloads I like. I'm thinking I might be able to at least salvage some of the clothes from my old Downloads file. The problem is that, unlike with Sims 1, you can't actually tell which is which unless you read the file names. Argh. So instead I check out the sites I normally go to, and their links sites, and the links sites on those until I find lots of fun stuff. Last time I surfed this much net was when I was looking for appropriate pictures for the Mage: Year Restart site (which oh my God I have to update at some point this week).

Move-in date is definitely Saturday next. Must remember to e-mail my mother and let her know that yes, David can come in that day with stuff. Must also pack and clean this room. Also finding alternate homes for Yuki, as Annie's friend seems to be a little less sure of taking Yuki as she was a few days ago. [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo's workmate seems keen to take her, and to be honest, I'd prefer that -- it feels like fewer degrees of separation. But we'll see.

And [livejournal.com profile] nadriel got his dates mixed up and will be unable to attend Mage Sunday. That leaves me with two players. Thankfully, Kuo-Li has Correspondence enough to take off without warning when he needs to, not to mention access to the Gallery. I have a great idea about where he's gone and why. So this Sunday, Skank and Lucius can still go off on their own and try to stop the impending war, and [livejournal.com profile] nadriel can rest easy at his tournament thing, secure in the knowledge that he has not so much nudged plot as bulldozed it. That'll teach him to manage his diary better.

Note from [livejournal.com profile] dodgyhoodoo: "Waitaminit. I have access to the Gallery. Why haven't I just gone in there and looked for Beep? ... Such a muppet..."

Hee!

Reply

Mar. 29th, 2005 10:01 am
thessalian: (innocent)
And so, to put the finishing touch on this particular weekend, there is more e-mail from my mother. I can't even bring myself to read it; I've just marked-as-read and stuck it in the folder I reserve for parental e-mail that I don't feel equipped to deal with. And yet it sits there, and I know it sits there, and thinking what it might say is likely worse than what reading what it does say. Still, can't cope with that right now. Head hurts too damn much to be having with that.

Instead I'm going to do the should-do stuff -- tidy my room a bit, go grocery shopping, lie down and try to relax so the headache doesn't eat me alive, that sort of thing. The room thing will be good because I really shouldn't have this much of my wardrobe lying on the floor. Besides, I have the "keep-it-toss-it" thing to do. You know, sort out what I own that I actually want to keep, what goes to the local charity shop and what is really only fit for the bin. No sense in moving things I don't actually want.

So ... yeah. Apparently people shooting me doesn't work because there is the "buzzing dodgyhoodoo resurrecty zap thing" after the shooting. Therefore I must apologise for virtual bullet waste. Which I suppose is somewhat less surreal than the conversation we had recently about being able to do touching Rememberance Day pastorals of Flanders Field on one's hamburger with the otherwise pointless-seeming green ketchup, the more standard red ketchup and mayonnaise (for the crosses, o'course).

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